


Picture Perfect

by darkesky



Series: Duality [7]
Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Twins, Eating Disorders, Miraculous Ladybug PV, Original Akuma, Photo Shoots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-27
Updated: 2020-05-27
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:33:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24406612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darkesky/pseuds/darkesky
Summary: With most of his free time, he pretends to sleep. While nobody would accuse Adrien of having a healthy sleep schedule prior to becoming Chat Noir and attending real school, he never suffered from insomnia. Choosing to stay up to watch anime or YouTube was always a conscious choice. Besides, he rarely got eight hours of interrupted sleep; instead, he took naps at any time possible.Right now, as he listens to Plagg purr and the stillness of the room, Adrien can get to a state of drifting. If he works hard enough, the daydream becomes sleep. As long as he isn’t running around, it counts, right? It never clears away the fatigue, but… He keeps holding out hope.Then, his alarm chirps into the still air.---In which Adrien's insecurities and flaws come to a head (at the worst possible time)
Relationships: Adrien Agreste & Felix Agreste, Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir & Plagg
Series: Duality [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1555636
Comments: 2
Kudos: 75





	Picture Perfect

**Author's Note:**

  * For [timerise](https://archiveofourown.org/users/timerise/gifts).



> this is the first time I've tried my hand at an original akuma, so i'm not sure how well it came across haha. there are several times in the series where it's an original akuma but it's only about like,, four akumas versus the twenty-some of regulars, but still, please leave feedback so I know if it was vaguely good and how I can improve.
> 
> also, this chapter is HEAVILY focused on Adrien
> 
> tw: eating disorders

_ All of the kwamis knew their Wielders shared certain characteristics across time. They preferred to trumpet the positive aspects; they spoke of ‘bravery,’ ‘empathy,’ and whatever else sounded good. Nobody wanted to sign onto a long history of selfishness. After all, they wanted to make superheroes. _

_ The other kwamis forgot they made supervillains just as often. _

_ Plagg knew most of his Wielders shared the same bad habit; they threw away their lives too easily. Sometimes, the recklessness stemmed from cockiness. They knew they’d never let themselves fall too far and die. They assumed they knew their limits. Sometimes, the recklessness stemmed from a lack of self-esteem. They assumed their lives didn’t have any worth; they assumed nobody would miss them. Sometimes, the recklessness stemmed from loyalness. They wanted to protect their version of a Ladybug, and Plagg found no fault in that. He would throw himself in front of anything to protect Tikki. _

_ They possessed the same habit he had, but, ultimately, he tried to wane them off it. He tried to convince them to try harder, to protect themselves more. Out of all the kwamis, his tended to die the most, and Plagg didn’t want to suffer from another heartbreak. _

_ “Another heartbreak?” Tikki teased. The two of them laid in the box, staring up at the inscriptions of the ceiling. They tended to meet in her area. Plagg converted his room into the best place to sleep, dark and cozy. Hers lit up and illuminated all the sunshine the box captured, and it put both of them in a better mood.  _

_ He nodded. “Believe it or not, Tik, I do have a heart.” _

_ “I’m not sure I do,” she giggled before scooting closer, laying her head across his chest. Just like that, they entwined again. Destruction and creation, hand-in-hand. He missed the small moments like this. Again and again, whoever the guardian of the box was called them into battle. As the most powerful, they could solve issues the fastest.  _

_ Nobody spoke of how easily corrupted Plagg’s Wielders were; nobody spoke of the great evil Tikki posed should she ever turn evil.  _

_ The mood sobered when she attempted again, though. “Don’t you think you’re setting yourself up for failure? A few of your Wielders live long lives—” _

_ “And if they live long lives, I never get to witness it.” In a way, he assumed all of them died young. Whenever he got pulled away from them, sentenced to confinement in the box until the next evil arose, he knew he’d struggle to track them. Oftentimes, he let it go. He didn’t want to know what their endings were—luck did not favor a black cat. Instead, it tended to find every way possible to make sure it ended poorly. They rode an airplane which crash-landed in the ocean. Their office building caught fire. Their routine surgery wound up with pulling the plug.  _

_ Tikki hummed. “It’s not about witnessing it. You help them grow up. Then, you have to let them figure out the rest on their own.” _

_ “Why don’t they ever just say… No? Insist to keep me until the end?” Plagg wouldn’t mind that. Watching his Wielder grow old, even if his Wielder didn’t exactly transform anymore. He didn’t like the transforming bit anyway. _

_ If he could do away with it, he could. But most of his Wielders shared the need to escape, and he gave them the easiest one. _

_ Tikki shrugged. “That’s not the way of things.” _

_ “I hate traditions,” he responded. _

_ - _

In comparison to sneaking in through the windows, the door to his bedroom almost feels too  _ tame.  _ Still, Adrien holds his breath as he shuts the door behind him. Fishing out his phone, he lets the blue light flicker across the darkened room. The only light comes from the fading moon, and he can’t make out any details. Considering even the computer screens go dark, Felix must’ve gone to bed on time.

As he walks, Adrien tries to shift his weight all to one side. His canvas bag bounces on his hip, the weight of his homework threatening to overrule his balance. At the photo shoot, he hid his injury well. With deliberate positioning and a little help from Plagg, nobody could even tell it swelled up more than usual. It helped he debuted new glasses; most of the shots focused on his face. 

By the time he reaches the bathroom, he can feel the heat collected in his cheeks. He pauses outside the door, lifting his injured foot off the ground, and he lays his bag against the wall. Tomorrow (or, at this point,  _ today)  _ he can finish up. Right now, he needs to change and go to bed to capture a few hours of sleep. 

Closing the door, he slumps against the door and eases to the ground. Stretching his ankle out against the cool tile, he lets out a relieved sigh. Most of the time, Adrien  _ freezes.  _ Only his ankle interrupts this, sending burning flares of pain through his body, insistent he gives it more attention than he really can right now. He closes his eyes and leans his head back against the sink.

Plagg floats out of his pocket and pulls his pajamas and sweatshirt from where Felix laid it out last night. “I hate your stupid photo shoots… They’re even  _ worse  _ at night.”

“You’ve mentioned.” He cracks open an eye to offer a smirk. 

Lobbing the sweatshirt at his face, Plagg makes a face and sticks out his tongue. Adrien snorts at his theatrics before tugging off his shirt. His kwami makes a noise of disgust. “Give me a warning if you’re gonna start stripping.”

“It’s nothing you haven’t seen before…” He hesitates, thinking about it. “It’s nothing all of  _ Paris  _ hasn’t seen before.”

“That makes me wildly uncomfortable.” Plagg nods at him as he wiggles into the simple t-shirt advertising Jagged Stone. “I hate that man.”

As he covers it up with the sweatshirt, hoping to keep out the chill which leaves trails of goosebumps up and down his arms, Adrien cocks his head. “Do you…  _ Know  _ Jagged Stone? I thought you said you were unfamiliar with a lot of recent pop culture.”

“He was a very bratty teenager… Not unlike you.” Tossing down the pajama pants, Plagg settles on the edge of the sink. Then, after more consideration, he flips onto his back, pressing his paws over his eyes. Adrien takes the memo and starts changing faster. “Nope, can’t even stomach that. Nobody could be worse than Jagged Stone… No, wait. Chloe. She’s brattier enough to compete.”

“Chloe’s not—”

“I’m cutting you off right there; she’s totally a brat.” He flies down and nestles in Adrien’s hair as he finishes changing. Reaching up, he uses the corner of the counters to hold most of his weight. This way, he balances on one foot. Hopping across the tiled floor, he reaches the door and tries to pull it open as softly as possible.

As he shuts off the light, he uses muscle memory to guide him over to his bed. Rather than limping the rest of the way, he tries to use acrobatics instead. Judging by the light laughter coming from Plagg, he looks  _ absolutely  _ ridiculous. Still, no pain jars and rocks through him; Adrien counts this as a resounding  _ win. _

Reaching his bed, he grabs his mound of blankets and pulls it over his head. Soon, the light will shift from night to dawn, and no amount of curtains can block it out. Adrien cracks open an eye and shakes his head, letting Plagg tumble out. Green eyes glow in the dark.

Then, he bats at Adrien’s face. “Sleep, kid. Your photo shoots suck.”

“I will,” he says, his breath coming out with a laugh. 

With most of his free time, he pretends to sleep. While nobody would accuse Adrien of having a  _ healthy  _ sleep schedule prior to becoming Chat Noir and attending real school, he never suffered from insomnia. Choosing to stay up to watch anime or YouTube was always a  _ conscious  _ choice. Besides, he rarely got eight hours of interrupted sleep; instead, he took naps at any time possible. 

Now, for the life of him, Adrien can’t fall asleep.

Originally, he spent night after night at the computers, paging through the Ladyblog and inspecting his own form. At some point, though, Felix found a way to put a password-protected curfew on the screens, forcing both of them to be in bed at least three AM. So, now he spends his nights balled up beneath his comforter and praying for sleep to come.

It never does.

Right now, as he listens to Plagg purr and the stillness of the room, Adrien can get to a state of  _ drifting.  _ If he works hard enough, the daydream becomes sleep. As long as he isn’t running around, it counts, right? It never clears away the fatigue, but… He keeps holding out hope. 

Then, his alarm chirps into the still air. 

_ “How?”  _ Plagg’s eyes blink open again.

Adrien hesitates, and the vague sense of sleep runs away from him. As he bites down on his bottom lip, Adrien swallows down any complaint forming. Shifting, he tries to reach out and find his alarm clock. The song continues to grow louder and louder. Without peeking out, though, he hits the wooden surface of the nightstand again and again.

A hand lands on his, and Adrien pauses. The alarm shuts off a few seconds later. “I didn’t hear you get back this morning. You’re getting better at sneaking in.”

“Hit snooze,” he mumbles into his pillow. “Day off.”

“About that…” With one last squeeze, he lets go and a weight settles on the end of his bed. Adrien picks up on the memo, and he scoots around. As he deposits Plagg in a divet in his mattress, he peels back the blankets until it gathers around his hips. Yawning, he rubs at his eyes and glances at his brother.

Felix rolls out of bed one minute after waking up, completely awake. Adrien takes twenty minutes to clear the sleep of his eyes, so the genetic lottery favors his brother. Right now, while he still sports bedhead and flannel pajamas, Adrien wouldn’t be able to guess he just got up. 

His eyes slide down to the bundle of clothing collected in Felix’s arms; dread starts to settle in his stomach. “Today’s my day off, isn’t it?”

Felix pulls a face, and Adrien stops breathing. “Look, Adrien… I can cover for you if you’d like. I’ll say you’re sick or something—”

“What’s the event? How much time do I have?” He reaches for his phone before remembering he shoved it into the bag with his homework. At a certain point, everyone he could text falls asleep. Felix stopped responding around midnight, and Nino held out an additional hour. Adrien won’t make any of his friends stay up just to accommodate him anyway; it’d be rude and unfair.

“Gabriel—”

_ “Father.” _

_ “Gabriel,”  _ he continues, “signed you up for a shoot last minute. Do you remember the brand SOFT? It’s up-and-coming, but it’s gaining a lot of traction with younger generations.” Stopping, Felix reconsiders what to say. Adrien smiles weakly; sometimes, Felix gets caught up with the business ends of things. Adrien’s too dumb to understand the ins and outs of business relationships though. “Anyway. Their new line about ‘everyday superheroes’ just came out.”

“Everyday superhero?” He hugs himself.

Leaning over, Felix gives him a shoulder pat. “I know. I think it’s a dumb idea, but everyone wants to capitalize on the new heroes, and SOFT worked faster than everyone else. Anyway, he wants us downstairs for breakfast in half-hour… Do you want me to tell him you slept in?”

“Is he joining us?”

He hesitates, and he knows what that means. “I’m not missing breakfast if Father’s there.”

“It’s your funeral.” Wincing in sympathy, Felix gets up and crosses the room to the bathroom.

Before he can control the impulse, he calls after him. His voice comes out too ragged, and he attempts to find a semblance of composure. “Do you, uh, do you know who’s the photographer today?”

“Your favorite guy is back.” Rolling his eyes, Felix shuts the door behind him.

Plagg peeks out. “Your favorite?”

“You’ll see…”

-

Nathalie never gets to sit down at the breakfast table when they eat as a family. Yet, his father needs her nearby to help with details of the conversation. She hovers by his side, a foot in and out of the Agreste family. Sometimes, Adrien reaches to pull out of the  _ many  _ chairs and offer her a seat. While he’s at it, he’d go find the Gorilla and make sure he gets to eat. He  _ knows  _ both of them live elsewhere as well as have quarters here in case of late nights; yesterday qualifies, so either they’ll rush to breakfast or miss it completely.

When she catches his eye, she shakes her head. Between the two of them, she recovered faster. She only wears an orange turtleneck and slacks today, her hair collected in loose curls on her shoulders… He wonders if she forewent her glasses for contacts or if she forgot them in the rush. The two of them talked on the car ride back less than an hour ago, and he  _ knew  _ she didn’t get any sleep either.

When he slides his gaze over to an open chair, he looks back at her. She only shakes her head again and fixes her gaze on a painting. He pouts a little before glancing down at the small bowl of yogurt. 

Right as he raises the spoon to his mouth, his father clears his throat, and Adrien almost drops it. “Nathalie, didn’t we talk about further limiting Adrien’s portions? I’ve seen the charts; it appears he’s gained weight.”

“He  _ hasn’t,”  _ Felix interrupts. “He gained muscle—”

“Felix, you weren’t addressed. I would prefer if you kept your opinion to yourself. Nathalie. His diet?” Father shifted to stare at Nathalie.

Nathalie chooses to pull out her iPad instead. As she starts to swipe at her screen, she glances up. “I must’ve missed that request, Monsieur Agreste. I will be right on that.”

“He doesn’t eat enough—” Felix yelps as Adrien reaches out and kicks his shin. As he scowls, he tries to reiterate the point, so Adrien kicks at him again. This time, he tries to put a little more ‘Chat Noir’ into it, and judging by the way his expression sours even further, he succeeded.

Father eyes the two of them before sighing. “I remember the old days when you didn’t feel the need to push back on every issue. I worry that school of yours might’ve enhanced that rebellious streak of yours.”

“No, that  _ school of mine  _ is making me more intelligent, so I can understand when you’re not treating us properly.” As he speaks, he nudges the cereal bowl closer to Adrien. The action doesn’t go unnoticed by either Nathalie or Adrien, but neither of them acts on it. When they start up a fight, never shouting, always sarcastic, Nathalie and Adrien always settle back to watch the fireworks. 

Taking a second to sip his coffee, long enough to make Felix squirm, he places the mug down hard enough to rattle the table. Adrien grabs his own cup up and cradles it against his chest. “No, I believe  _ I  _ was the one who made you this intelligent. You are my intern; I have taught you every secret—”

Nathalie snorts; Adrien gapes at her.

_ “As I was saying,”  _ Father spits out, and his venom turns towards Nathalie. His assistant pretends to go back to examining things on his tablet. Resisting the urge to leap across the table, Adrien tries to communicate with her silently. She avoids eye contact. “I taught you how GABRIEL ran. I taught you mathematics and social studies and whatever else that school provides for you in this internship  _ alone.  _ Not to mention the countless  _ hundreds  _ I’ve spent on lessons for you, making you fluent in three different languages, teaching you invaluable life skills like piano, and—”

“Invaluable skills like the piano? When will piano ever help me get ahead in life? Yes, it is a useful parlor trick, but unless I intend to become an entertainer, I can’t imagine I need it.” Besides, at this point, Felix probably  _ can’t  _ play piano. When the two of them figured out how to hook up their phones to mimic playing whatever instruments their fathers want, they stopped practicing. Well, Felix stopped practicing. Adrien sneaks in piano whenever he gets a minute of free time to make sure he doesn’t fall behind.

Then again, Adrien gets to be the face of the company. He needs to be an entertainer on some level. Without the ability to smile and impress people, Adrien really doesn’t contribute to the family. At least when they host the annual gala or Felix eventually throws together a party to announce the end of his internship at the end of the year, Adrien gets to wow everyone with his piano-playing. Unlike his father and Felix, his conversations lack the same depth needed to lure people in. He can’t talk statistics or business analyses or other words they casually throw out on  _ Shark Tank  _ (Adrien loves watching  _ Shark Tank  _ with Nathalie when the two spitfires work together on some project, and they get an hour of free time). 

Father raises an eyebrow. “You need it to develop social skills. Obviously, you need help in that department. Adrien?”

“Yes, Father?” The words roll out of him without a second thought, but he struggles not to wince when Felix glares at him. 

“Do you think your piano abilities have helped you get ahead in life?” Father’s gaze digs into him, seeking out an answer. It burrows beneath his skin. When Adrien straightens in his chair, he catches sight of Felix again. His grip on his coffee mug (though without coffee because their father insists  _ neither  _ of them needs it) tightens until his knuckles practically  _ glow  _ white.

Adrien stares up at the ceiling. 

Then, he takes a deep breath to make sure his voice doesn’t shake when he speaks. “I think it  _ has  _ helped me, but Fe and I—”

“Exactly. Your brother believes my lessons have helped me out in life; perhaps try out some of that gratitude.” 

“Are not the same person,” Adrien murmurs under his breath, too softly for anyone in the room to pick up on. That… That was how he intended to end that sentence, hopefully upsetting neither Father nor Felix.

-

“Adrien.”

He pauses in the doorway, shifting to face Father. Standing next to Nathalie, he appears even taller. His shadow dances across the floor until all Adrien sees belongs to his father. Swallowing hard, he tries to push away the imagery. “Yes?”

“Before you leave, give a call to Miss Bourgeoise. Her father said something about her still being upset about the outcome of that competition.” He wrinkles his nose and plucks the tablet out of Nathalie’s hands. She stiffens before forcing herself less rigid, looking elsewhere. “Though, I do not know what he thought I would do. I change rules for nobody… Not my kids, and certainly not someone else’s.”

“You want me to call Chloe?” he squeaks out.

Gabriel gives him a long look, appraising him. “That is what I said, didn’t I? Nathalie, did you hear me say that?”

“Yes, sir,” she says passively.

Edging his way out of the room, he nods. “Yeah, okay. I’ll call Chloe before we leave… Er… Is she even awake this early? I know she doesn’t stay up  _ that  _ late, but I’m pretty sure she sleeps in on Sunday mornings—”

“Then, make an attempt. And we can see where you go from there.” Father’s voice sinks from annoyed to angry, and Adrien gets the memo. He gets out an apology before turning on his heel. As he walks away, trying to collect his breath, he waits until their voices start up in the room. Then, with featherlight footsteps, he takes the stairs two at a time and as fast as humanly possible (or, maybe,  _ faster  _ than humanly possible. Plagg keeps helping him in these subtle ways, and he hasn’t thanked him enough). 

When he bursts into the bedroom, Felix glances up from the desk. He sits with his feet up at the table, forcing the chair to spin in small rotations. It squeaks with every semi-circle. In his lap, he taps away at his tablet with something that  _ looks  _ like another slideshow. “Someone’s eager to get to that photo shoot today; I thought you didn’t want to go.”

“No, Father wants me to call Chloe before we leave. So, I figured the sooner I get up here, the longer our conversation will be able to be?” He shrugs as he grabs his phone off the nightstand. Nobody reaches out to him this early in the morning; Nino doesn’t wake up until at least noon, Alix and Kim go on morning runs together which last at  _ least  _ an hour, and… And that’s most of his friends. 

He needs to get Kagami’s number. 

Felix huffs. “Since when did Gabriel try and pick who your  _ friends  _ could be?”

Adrien pauses, trying to come up with a rebuttal, but he knows he comes up short. For a second, he hovers over Nino’s name in his contacts  _ (and remembers the way he towered over him, the way Cataclysm ripped a hole into his bones and never touched him, the anger crackling out on Adrien’s behalf of Father’s overprotectiveness, the anger of his own situation).  _ “Father approves of Chloe. That means—”

“More than it should?”

“A lot to me,” he finishes lamely. Hesitating, he scrolls back up to Nino’s name and studies it. The morning after his birthday, Father pulled him aside and warned him. If akumas kept concentrating in his class, he would be forced into a different one. Every passing day, Adrien realizes he can’t stop akumas as himself either. He didn’t know Ivan well enough to help there, but one of his closest friends from school caused it; if  _ Kim  _ causes akumas and Adrien continues to hang out with him, does that make him a bad person? Does hanging out with  _ Chloe  _ make him a bad person? He heard what she said to Nino, not from her mouth but in bits and pieces in gossip, and he  _ knew  _ she upset Mylene. And now, if Kagami joined their class… But he caused that one. 

Maybe he  _ is  _ a bad person.

Felix still hasn’t looked away, so he rushes to Chloe’s contact and waits. As it rings, splitting through the silence, he rolls his eyes. “You try too hard to please the man; you know he will accept nothing from you.”

“He accepts  _ enough  _ from me,” Adrien mumbles and flops down on his bed. Instantly, a familiar weight wiggles through the sheets and peeks out, just enough to see Felix doesn’t watch. Then, he dives onto Adrien’s free hand, and he offers a small smile at Plagg. The kwami frowns and nips at his fingers until he laughs and smiles wider.

Chloe picks up at that moment. “Adrikins, it’s  _ way  _ too early to be calling! I miss talking to you too, but we can discuss that some time that  _ isn’t  _ the ass-crack of dawn—Adrien, are you okay?”

“What? Yeah!” The laugh slips away, and he schools his expression. 

She studies him before shrugging. She still lounges in bed, hair in a messy bun. After waiting for him to hang up, she nods and reaches to grab her thick, black glasses. Leaning back against her pillow, she stifles a yawn and waves a hand, annoyed. “Well?”

“Well?”

“What do you want? You wouldn’t call this early unless you needed me for something.” She rolls her eyes. “Basics of our friendship; keep up! Anyway, what do you need?”

“A backbone,” Felix calls out as he continues to mess around with his slideshow. This time, he doesn’t glance up.

Chloe snorts. “Hardy-har, Fe. But seriously.”

“I… Just wanted to talk to you?” His words come out as a question, and he flinches. From the desk, Felix starts laughing before trying to hide it, and Chloe stares at him for a few seconds. 

She rolls her eyes again. “Sure. Okay…  _ Oh, wait!  _ I know what this is about!”

“You do?” Adrien winces at his questioning  _ again;  _ he needs to know how to make statements. It wouldn’t be unreasonable for Chloe to figure out their father’s schemes. Growing up with her mother, the three of them share similar experiences. If he’s being honest, he doesn’t remember Mrs. Bourgeoise very well. He remembers her pushing him into Chloe a lot, cooing over the ‘unification of their families,’ but soon after, she started traveling the world for her magazine. He had more vivid memories of Chloe crying into his shoulder, asking why parents left  _ (and Adrien couldn’t answer, and he thought about his own mom, on how she was supposed to be the embodiment of sunshine yet he never would know her, and how does the sun just go out?, and how he couldn’t win over his father),  _ than the actual woman. As much as she earned her title of ‘pampered’ and ‘entitled,’ Chloe’s life isn’t without its own fair share of troubles. 

Chloe nods, and she smirks. “You want to  _ finally  _ apologize for your cold shoulder all week! Admittedly, it wasn’t the  _ best  _ cold shoulder, but still.  _ Rude.” _

“That’s…” He hesitates. “That was about Mylene—”

“Who isn’t even your friend! And  _ I’m  _ your friend!” Batting her eyelashes at him, somehow, her smirk grows bigger on her face. 

Plagg nips at his fingers. Adrien grits his teeth to keep from yelping, and he curls his fist around Plagg, trying to get the kwami to move away. “I know, Chloe. I really value our friendship. It’s just that… You never apologized to Mylene—”

“Because Mylene isn’t my friend, and I was just saying how things are. Do you fault me for being  _ truthful?  _ Do you want me to start  _ lying?” _

“Of course not—”

“Wait, are you trying to blame me for  _ Hawkmoth?”  _ She reels back on the screen, face going pale. “Do you think I’m that bad? That  _ awful?  _ Do you really think I have it in me, to be a supervillain? We’ve been friends since… Since…  _ Ever,  _ and you have such little faith in me—”

“Adrien, just hang up.” Now, the steady squeaking of the chair cuts out. “She’s not worth it—”

“You’re my  _ best friend,  _ and you think…” Her bottom lip wobbles, and her eyes start to flood with tears.

Plagg nips at his fingers again, but Adrien ignores it. He ignores Felix getting to his feet, trying to get to the phone first. “I’m sorry, Chloe, you’re right—”

“You’re not seriously  _ apologizing  _ to her—”

“Thank you, Adrikins.” Her tears disappear. “I knew you were a good friend.”

“Adrien—”

Chloe hangs up, and Adrien stares at the empty screen for a few seconds. Then, he glances away and gives his brother his most convincing smile. Felix doesn’t even waver before snatching the phone. “Remember what I said about the backbone? That’s more obvious than ever now.”

“I didn’t want to hurt Chloe’s feelings—”

“I know.” Felix huffs. “And you don’t want to hurt Gabriel’s. Or Nathalie’s. Or mine. Or anyone in the entire world.”

“Fe—”

“Just… I need to finish getting ready for the photo shoot.” Turning, Felix returns to the desk and starts to pack up his things without another word. Adrien debates trying to say something, trying to speak past the lump in his throat continuing to grow today. He wants to  _ explain;  _ how could he even suggest Chloe be Hawkmoth? If that’s what she thought he implied, then he  _ needs  _ to apologize. Intent doesn’t matter if it hurts her feelings, and maybe this time, she actually  _ was  _ hurt. Sure, sometimes Chloe lies to him. Sometimes, Chloe tugs on him until he says the right thing, but she wants what’s best for both of them. She’s not as selfish and callous as everyone makes her out to be.

Instead, he swallows down the words, and he stares up at the ceiling. 

-

Before, Adrien could ask someone to come with him to get his hair and makeup done. While some people found it childish, others found it endearing. As long as that continued, Father would allow him to bring company back with him. As Adrien grew older and older, it stopped making him a sweetheart in the eyes of the artists; instead, it made him a whiny brat. Now, he goes back to get ready by himself.

Nathalie and Felix start to set up behind the camera. As he drags over a chair, he murmurs something to the assistant, winning a smile. Not for the first time, Adrien longs for that easy camaraderie. He wants to know what the joke is, he wants to understand every twist of the conversation. Instead, he sits on the outside.

Then, someone clucks something at him, and he follows them back to get his makeup done. As they walk down the winding hallway and Adrien takes in the scenery, his phone buzzes inside his pocket. He peeks at it as subtly as possible.

**FATHER:** Take a photo as you get ready, preferably a partial of your face. Upload it to Instagram. No filter. Don’t mess this up.

**ADRIEN:** I won’t.

As he enters one of the backrooms, he marvels at how small the whole establishment is. If he glances through the windows, he finds something different behind every door. One of them held certain color schemes, and Adrien finds a part of him wishing to model Chat Noir gear, selfishly. While Ladybug owns his heart, he could never do her honor, and Le Paon would hate the whole concept of this. He doesn’t seem like someone who wants merchandise; actually, neither does Ladybug. 

Maybe he’ll bring it up to them. If they swing by SOFT, maybe they can make a deal. They could model the outfits in exchange for donating half the proceeds to charity; it’d be unfair to ask them to scrap the entire line. If the heroes model them, though, prices would go up, and maybe,  _ maybe,  _ they would be able to get some good out of it.

“Oh, you’re already in here? Good! That saves me time.” 

Swiveling around in the chair, he blinks before smiling. “Hi!”

“Good save. You didn’t expect someone so young?” The girl saunters in front of him until the two of them stand eye-to-eye. She keeps her hair bound back in a bushy tail, a mess of curls that look impossible to tame, and muscles ripple under her tanned skin. Even as she shuffles through the makeup bag on her hip, he tries to gauge her  _ actual  _ age. As a makeup artist, he feels like it could go ten years either way… But she looks five years older than him,  _ max.  _ “SOFT is run by the four of us, fresh out of high school. We managed to book out a venue a few weeks back, and,  _ somehow,  _ we convinced your father to loan you to us! Sure, we had to allow him to use his own photographer and promise we wouldn’t be in the room while the photos happened—the photographer said something about  _ disrupting his creative flow— _ but I think it’s worth it. It’ll be nice to really be out there rather than being purely online and word-of-mouth.”

“So  _ just  _ the four of you started SOFT?” He struggles picturing starting a business from the ground up. While Father did just that in his youth, he still had several advantages in his favor. To just start your own brand right away… Adrien wouldn’t be able to do anything that ambitious. He needs the steps outlined for him.

She nods. “Me and my best friends! We only recently started to pick up, though. Starting a business?  _ Would not recommend.” _

“I don’t intend to.” He offers his best smile.

Still, the idea starts to form in his idea. While he can’t imagine  _ actually  _ starting a business, he lets the hypothetical form. Who would he go out on a limb with? Nino, definitely. He’d say Felix, but Felix locked in his future a long time ago. The people Nino hangs out with, though, are good people. Marinette and Alya would be a good duo to add to their team. None of their interests overlap, but still, he would love the time to spend with them. Nobody would accuse him of wasting his time, and nobody would suggest the others were a bad influence. He would be free to show off his ideas without hesitation. 

Abruptly, a container of black glitter and a brush overtakes his vision. He startles back, and she laughs. “Sorry, my bad. I guess I should’ve warned you.”

“No, that’s my bad. I should’ve been more professional. I’m sorry.” Straightening, Adrien fixes his gaze on an unmoving point and waits for her to start applying the glitter. The inner child of him rejoices. If she paints that around his eyes like the brush implies, he  _ might  _ get to be Chat Noir after all. He asked Plagg once why nobody connected the dots, and the magic of the Miraculous would always prevent people from recognizing Wielders by appearance alone. It allowed him small privileges like this.

The brush dances across the bridge of his nose. “You’re, what? Fourteen?”

“I turned fifteen last week,” he corrects. He shifts to glance at her before looking away. “But that was a good guess!”

“Happy belated birthday,” she says with a laugh. “Don’t feel bad, though. I was so awful with people doing my makeup as a kid. I can do it myself, easily, but the second someone approached me with eyeliner, I’d blink  _ all the time.” _

“I haven’t done that in a long time.” Adrien can’t stop the smile from forming, and he gives up on trying. While more unpleasant memories try to overtake him, he pushes them down stubbornly. He deserves to enjoy a moment of today. While today blurs with its fuzziness, a weariness deeply ingrained in his bones, he wants to remember meeting her. He wants to relish in the fact someone so young got so far without any influence from their family.

She hums as she pulls back, studying his face. “I’m glad we picked the mask look in the end. It makes the other touch-ups that much easier. I remember how  _ hard  _ it was to hide eye bags. Like, in high school, I pulled a lot of all-nighters to make sure I could pass my business classes. And I didn’t want my parents to worry, so I used to lather makeup under my eyes and pray nobody picked up on it.”

“I don’t…” The lie dies on the tip of his tongue. If she caught sight of the dark crescents beneath his eyes, he couldn’t make up anything to justify it. She’d be able to figure it out eventually. Those two photo shoots will be advertised at similar times. Maybe she already knew he came from another photo shoot less than a day ago.

As she gets out concealer, ready to hide the rest of the blemishes on his face, she shrugs. “Hey, I’m not judging you. Anything to get ahead, right? I imagine modeling must be really competitive.”

“Yeah…” He glances at his reflection in the mirror where the makeup became a shield, a comfortable wall to retreat behind. Once again, he forces a smile. Polite, small, distant, aloof. He got  _ coached  _ on the proper way to smile years ago. “Anything to go ahead.”

-

He hates saying this; he hates  _ phrasing  _ something like this. Yet, no man ever upset him more than Vincent. Working at the photo shoot requires a lot more thought than he’d imagine. Any other photographer uses basic commands, and when they grow creative with their shots, it still maintains a level of reasonability. With Vincent, Adrien feels like he needs to have a dictionary and thesaurus on hand just to keep up.

His exhaustion hit half an hour into the shoot, and now, a distant buzzing fills the back of his head. When he shifts on the props, meant to simulate different areas of Paris, black dots flood across his vision. He wobbles more than he should, but he always covers it well enough that nobody tries to pull him off the shoot. If he messes this up, if Father gets word of his shortcomings, Adrien doesn’t know what will await him back home. 

Right now, he crouches at the base of the ‘Eiffel Tower,’ looking over his shoulder at the reflection of the moon. Vincent keeps calling out words like ‘wistful,’ ‘devastated,’ ‘pensive.’ He insists on making every photo as tragic as possible. No matter how Adrien  _ wants  _ to pose, he vetoes any suggestion and goes back to these horribly sad photos. 

He thought he’d be happy to model as Chat Noir. He wears their sweatshirt and beanie combo right now, and both are as black as possible, neon green veins running through to represent Cataclysm. One of the people setting up equipment commented on the way Adrien’s green eyes seemed to  _ pop  _ today because of all the black swathing him. Felix made a comment about it being a ‘feverish glint,’ and Adrien shifted to ignore his brother with the best of his ability. 

Yet, this should be the closest he’s been to Chat Noir in his everyday life. He should feel freer, more alive, than ever. Somehow, though, Vincent corrupted the superhero. Now, he’s someone who sits on rooftops and stares off into the distance. Somehow, Chat Noir lost all of his playfulness, and they stripped him down to this strange, lonely version of him (and somehow he  _ knows  _ that strange, lonely version of him is just Adrien Agreste).

As Adrien staggers to his feet, bracing himself against the Eiffel Tower’s outline, a timer chirps through the air. Vincent curses and lowers his camera. “Surely, mademoiselle, we can wait on the lunch break? I think we have  _ just  _ reached the depths of this pose. We have figured out the  _ core  _ of the  _ chat noir.” _

“Somehow, I doubt that,” Felix murmurs. 

Offering a grateful smile, the uncertainty starts to smooth out. If Felix recognizes this version of Chat doesn’t belong, it means Chat still means the same thing; Chat still represents the  _ only  _ freedom in his life. As subtly as possible, Adrien reaches underneath the hood and feels for the thick band, running his fingers over the ring. Right now, he wears specific jewelry SOFT sells… Though they acknowledged it wasn’t part of the everyday hero collection. 

Vincent ignores his brother, focusing all his attention on Nathalie. “Please, Mademoiselle Sancoeur. Give me a chance to finish this task. Then,  _ then,  _ the young boy can have lunch! But to break the rhythm of the shoot now could prove disastrous,  _ no, cataclysmic.” _

“That’s what you said the  _ first time  _ the timer went off.” Felix pauses. “And the second time. His lunch break is already an hour late because we’ve tried to respect your creative process. At some point, though, the line gets drawn.”

“Monsieur Agreste,” Nathalie says, a warning in her voice.

He huffs. “You weren’t going to say it.”

“We’re already behind schedule. We need to get the young model in the rest of the Chat Noir lineup! Surely, you don’t want to go overtime?” Vincent’s voice shifts, trying to be more insistent while maintaining a level of gentleness.

Adrien slumps against the Eiffel Tower, taking all of the weight off his bad ankle. Today already proves hellish in  _ that  _ aspect too. It throbs and pulses beneath his skin, trying to break free. Sitting down sounds  _ amazing  _ right now, but he knows where this argument will go.

“I—”

“Let me ask Monsieur Agreste!” And just like, Vincent wins the argument. 

Nathalie lets out a long sigh, and she casts a sympathetic look in Adrien’s direction. Then, she straightens and resumes her cold exterior. “There is no need. I’m certain Adrien can wait longer to get his lunch break. As long, of course, as it  _ is  _ eventually given.”

“Nathalie—”

“Felix, let it  _ go.  _ Go call your father and report on how the photo shoot is going.”

As the camera turns back to him, Adrien eases upwards and flashes his famous smile. 

_ Click. _

_ Click. _

_ Click. _

-

At some point, the photo shoot dissolved into a screaming match. Vincent starts splitting hairs with the owners of SOFT, and the four women yell at him for criticizing their style. Or, at least, he thinks it might be the reason. Adrien can’t focus enough to grasp hold of the words being thrown; they slip right through his fingertips. He stumbles away on his fifteen-minute break (he never receives a chance to get a lunch break after all), and he finds himself finding some random bathroom.

One second, the lights flash bright white in his face as the door swings open. The next, the world flashes to black. Weightlessness floods through his body, and he falls, his hands buzzing too hard to try and catch himself. Seconds pass, and he comes back to himself, the numbing starting to fade, tiles pressed against his cheek. 

Adrien scrambles up, slow and terrified, world trying to fade to black again. Then, he throws the door shut and hugs himself, watching as his vision pops in and out of view. Something rings loudly, refusing to go away. As he tilts his head, he bats clumsily to try and ease it away.

Then, someone hits him on his nose, and he reels back. As he deflates against the door, no longer able to stay up, he watches the black dot settle onto him. His voice fades into the ringing, and he listens as it adjusts. “—id. Kid. Adrien. Chat Noir? I need a response from you. Kitten, please.”

“Kitten?” he mumbles, trying to clear his vision. 

The vibrating stops. Then, it burrows deeper into the hoodie, and with every moment, he realizes just how  _ cold  _ he feels. He could freeze to death right now… He felt as if he might be dying right now. “Of all words for you to pick up on, it’s that one. Forget about it… Then again, you’re barely coherent right now. You probably will.”

“I will,” he says, letting his eyes drift shut.

A claw snags on his cheek, and Adrien’s eyes shoot back open. His eyelids settle half-mast as he stares at Plagg, trying to figure out what to say. Instead, Plagg starts nudging his hand until it thuds against something hard, solid. He feels at it weakly, trying to nuzzle deeper into the door as he tries to pull it out. His hand trembles and shakes, and when he finally gets it out, it falls to the ground. 

Plagg picks it up for him. He drifts and starts pawing at the screen before forcing it into Adrien’s hands. As he cradles it, both hands to support it, Plagg starts guessing at the password. “There’s no way it’s something hard—”

“1-2-3-4-5-6.”

He turns and stares, big eyes widening even farther in disbelief. “You can’t… You’re a  _ model…  _ You… Okay, fine. Your brother texted you.”

“Can’t read it.” He tries to squint at the screen, but the lights distract him and leave his brain bouncing within his skull. Shifting, Adrien focuses on one of the dark tones of the wood, trying to settle the way his stomach churns and his vision tunnels. “I’m gonna… I might… I… I dunno anymore.”

“I’ll read it to you. Just don’t pass out.” Plagg clears his throat and attempts for a more pompous, arrogant voice. He lets out a breathy laugh in response, and Plagg’s tone grows fonder. _ “‘Where have you disappeared to? Vincent is getting very aggravated by the way all of this is turning out. Good for you, but still.’” _

“Tell him—”

“He just texted again.” He pauses.  _ “‘Adrien, I would really like to know where you are. Vincent just got akumatized. The situation has escalated.’” _

“There’s an akuma?” Adrien struggles to sit upright, and he reaches up around his neck. It slips through his fingers the first time, but he makes a face and tries to get it around his finger again. As it slides and clinks against his hand, hanging low on the band again, Plagg floats up and claims his hand, forcing him back down.

“If you’re feeling ambitious, text your brother back. We are  _ not  _ getting transformed.” He narrows his eyes and drags his attention back to the phone. As Plagg starts to purr, the vibration echoes out from his small body and through his body. All of the discontent starts to settle inside of him, calming down.

Plagg makes him feel  _ safe.  _ If someone burst into this room right now, akuma or otherwise, the kwami would defend him with his life. As Adrien fumbles and tries to stroke Plagg’s head, knowing the secret spot which always makes Plagg laugh, he knows he’d never be abandoned.

**ADRIEN:** bdthrom

**FELIX:** What?

**ADRIEN:** im bi bafhtom

**FELIX:** You’re starting to freak me out. What happened? Should I call for Nathalie? Should I call 911?

**FELIX:** Adrien?

**ADRIEN:** siry bksckunf our

**ADRIEN:** blaksed our

**FELIX:** Is that “blacking out?” Give me one second, I’m going to call you

In the distance, something crashes, and someone starts screaming at the top of their lungs. Adrien flinches and curls up into a ball; Plagg nuzzles against him to convince him to move farther. With his prodding, he winds up curled underneath the sink, the exposed piping providing a way to support himself. Darting into the open air between them, the lock clicks sharply. He smiles, dazed, as his phone starts to buzz.

Plagg returns, and Adrien hands the phone over. “‘M sick… Can you…?”

“Yeah, kid.”

“Kitten.”

“You’re lucky I feel bad for you right now,” Plagg huffs out, and Adrien wheezes out a laugh.  _ “‘I can’t come to find you right…’  _ Why does your brother always sound like he has a stick up his ass? He’s  _ texting.  _ We don’t need complete sentences.”

“Plagg…”

“I know, I know, I’m reading.” He settles into Adrien’s hair.  _ “‘The akuma is getting especially bad. Stay safe, stay hidden. Hopefully, I can flag down one of the heroes to find you, but I’m not athletic enough to dodge his akuma. I’m sorry. I will see you soon.’” _

“The akuma’s bad…” He clears his throat, trying to keep his words from crashing into each other again. “Plagg, claws—”

“Stop. Don’t you  _ dare  _ finish that.” Plagg starts kneading at his scalp, and he melts. “We’re keeping you safe right now.”

-

Lazy Sundays refuse to last for long. Right before this happened, she lounged on the couch, flat on her stomach with her feet arched over her head. Every once and a while, she’d glance at the TV where her parents watched countdown lists of movies to debate what they wanted to watch that night. She kept sketching though. Between SOFT announcing its new line and up-and-coming artist, Theo Barbot, claiming he has a surprise for the new heroes, she wants to try her hand at new designs. 

Then, an alert popped up on the bottom of the screen, and they switched channels. A new akuma appeared at the GENTLE shoot  _ (the shoot she saw on Adrien’s Instagram story!),  _ so she disappeared into the bathroom and climbed out the window. 

As she slung across Paris, she kept glancing down at herself. The pigtails disappeared into two buns notched at the top of her head, and the top of her uniform resembled a cloak, its fabric falling halfway down her back and swaying every time she moved her arms. The cloak notched over the usual skin-tight uniform is red and black still… The rest of it became completely black. 

_ ‘You wanted to try some new costumes!’  _ chirped Tikki.

She thumps on top of the building of SOFT, and she ducks behind a chimney. As she flips open her yo-yo, she tries calling Chat Noir. A photo of him pops up. Without a moment to process, a smile floats across her face. He crosses his eyes, puffs out his cheeks, and  _ glows.  _ Tracing the edge of her yo-yo, she files that away to tease him about. 

“Please stop with the heart eyes. It’s getting annoying to stand between the two of you.” Le Paon lands beside her.

As he fails to pick up, she sighs and closes her yo-yo. “Sorry I’m late. Give me a rundown on the akuma.”

“Calls himself  _ Picture Perfect.  _ If he manages to catch you in his camera, and you can tell because the flash is ten times brighter and has ten times the range, you’ll freeze and pose the exact way he wants… Whether or not it defies physics.” Le Paon wrinkles his nose and messes with the feathers on his fans. 

She stares at him for a few seconds. He fidgets in a way, and while it may be subtle unlike the way Chat flails, she’s never seen this level of uncertainty on him before… It doesn’t suit him. Ladybug opens her mouth, ready to ask him about it, before she freezes and thinks better of it. 

Even Chat hesitates on sharing emotions; the boys aren’t meant to share their feelings. While she wants to correct that one day, convince them it’s okay to be nervous and unsure because Ladybug  _ always  _ feels that way, she knows today won’t be that day. She’ll help him out as subtly as possible. And that means stepping away and letting him take control of the situation today no matter what. 

“Okay. You know more than me; what are we doing?” She gets to her feet and brushes off the dust.

He stares at her in disbelief for a few seconds before nodding, mostly to himself, and taking off. She follows easily as he drops to one of the windows and bursts through. Inside, something  _ clicks  _ again and again. It takes a few seconds for Ladybug to identify it as the camera. Would the akuma hide in there? 

“Is he going to leave this building?” she asks as he ducks behind a corner. He walks through the hallways as if he owns the place, but the way his hands keep curling and uncurling at his side gives away his anxiety. A piece of her heart goes out to him, desperate to find out why he hurts from this akuma more than the others. If she made a bet, she’d wager Le Paon was her age. Wouldn’t seeing someone so young, like Mylene, affect him more than the random photographer?

He shakes his head, pressing a finger against his lips. Then, he crouches and gestures for her to do the same. “He has a target besides the two of us. Remember how Riposte was determined to go after Marinette and Adrien?”

“Of course I do.” After all, Riposte happened only a few days prior, and seeing someone so hellbent on destroying her… It rattles Ladybug more than she wants to admit. She tried to find Kagami after the incident to apologize, but instead, she found Adrien talking to her, and he was  _ glowing,  _ and…

And she hid and jealousy kept rising through her. It’s petty and small, and it’s not becoming of a superhero, but… Marinette knew if she went to talk to Kagami at that moment, somehow, it’d be about Adrien instead, so she decided to wait until Monday. 

“Adrien seems to be making a lot of enemies these days,” Le Paon murmurs, voice dropping in volume until his lips barely move.

She blinks. Adrien Agreste? Making enemies? The idea of someone hating him that much goes over her head. Then again, she thought he put gum on her chair, and she dismissed him entirely. Maybe this is another misunderstanding. Maybe she can try and reason with the akuma, though it failed with Riposte—

The camera clicks, and Le Paon barely throws them back in time. As the bright light reflects off the picture frames lining the hallway, the akuma steps into view. She recognizes him faster than she thought she could, and she gapes. The same man photographed Adrien during Stormy Weather’s attack! While he dons a silver, skintight uniform, reflective surfaces littered across it to keep disorientating them as it captures the light, covering him from the top of his neck to the bottom of his feet, his face remains relatively unobscured.

“Not Monsieur Agreste, but I will settle for two heroes instead.” The man starts cackling as he lifts the camera up. “Did you know we did this photo shoot in honor of you three? To capture your essences!”

_ Click. _

“Ladybug! Bold, beautiful, passionate.”

_ Click. _

“And insecure, competitive, scared!”

Ladybug misses a step as she slings her yo-yo to a light fixture, launching her over the top of his head. He tries to follow her, the camera tilting back, but then, he gives up and instead focuses on Le Paon, who instead focused on tearing a photo off the wall and covering his whole body with it, curling into a small ball behind it.

_ Click. _

“And Le Paon! Calculated, brave, intelligent!”

_ Click. _

“Distant, emotionless, humorless!”

He cackles as the flash floods across the surface of the painting, and it dissolves in Le Paon’s hands. The boy curses as he forces another off the wall, chucking it at the photographer before ducking and rolling into a room. Ladybug bounces forward and uses the momentum to plant her feet into his back. The photographer continues to laugh, echoing off the walls, invading her senses, as he falls towards the ground. He twists to get her, and it misses by a fraction. 

_ Click. _

“And Chat Noir, who appears to be absent this time around. Fearless, kind-hearted, charismatic!”

_ Click. _

“Lonely, repressed, ignored.” 

“I don’t think you understand the dynamics of the team very well,” Ladybug growls out as she tries to kick the camera out of his hands. It connects and swoops through the air, shattering across the wall.

The laughter stops.

But in the ruins of the camera, no akuma emerges, and Picture Perfect climbs to his feet. He tilts his head, emotion draining off. Slowly, a shadow starts to flicker across his feature. The lights flicker and dim, and something cold floods through the air. Le Paon yelps, emerging from the room, and grabs her arm. 

“What’s going on?” She can’t take her eyes off the akuma as he starts to tug her down the hallway. A silhouette starts to form…

Le Paon huffs. “I don’t want to know… And we’re going to need a Lucky Charm in order to get through this one.  _ Hurry up!” _

“It’s a good thing,” Picture Perfect says, monotone, a purple butterfly tattooed across his face, “a good artist always brings extras.”

-

At the end of the day, Adrien’s bad luck surpasses anyone else’s. When he ushers Ladybug into the bathroom, wheezing and panting from sprinting down the hallway from someone who seems just a little too unstable, he doesn’t expect to break through a lock and find Adrien curled up beneath the sink.

Ladybug drops to her knees without hesitation, gesturing over her shoulder vaguely for Le Paon to lock the door behind him. He swallows hard and tries to get his feet to move. While he  _ knew  _ Adrien was in a bad state, he didn’t know… He couldn’t have known… He  _ should’ve  _ known. 

“H-hey! What’s wrong?” Her facade cracks for a second.

Le Paon wants to move forward and crouch in front of his brother, but he knows he’ll give himself away. Something churns in his stomach, some endless abyss of guilt. Adrien takes everything a lot harder than Felix; when Gabriel insists on anything, he bends over backwards to make sure it happens. Felix  _ knows  _ this. But today, he let the pressures of the internship and his anger at Gabriel tie him up in knots and leave him just out of reach of Adrien who desperately needed him. 

It burns him up inside. 

Adrien keeps one arm braced around his stomach, and the other drifts back to anchor him to the piping of the sink. Blinking several times, he focuses on Ladybug’s face until his cheeks flare bright red. He shifts back a little and ducks his gaze. When he speaks, it sounds like it comes out from a mouthful of cotton. “Ladybug?”

“It’s too dangerous to linger here. The akuma is hunting for you.” Ladybug hesitates before reaching for him. 

His brother swallows hard and shifts away again, using the sink to stagger to his feet. Ladybug’s hands flail out, ready to catch him on the off chance he’ll topple. “No, no, no. You go save the world. I’ll be  _ fine.” _

“I’ll help him. Get the Lucky Charm,” he manages to say after a few seconds, watching his brother stumble about like a newborn fawn. Felix—Le Paon—knows this image will haunt him when he goes to bed tonight. He needs to fight harder for Adrien, needs to make sure it never comes to this again.

Has Adrien always been so skinny? Has Adrien always been so pale? Sure, with the makeup on his face and the fluorescent lighting, he almost appears like a ghost. Maybe it’s just here? Maybe anyone else would have missed it… But Felix is his  _ twin brother.  _ He knows Adrien better than anyone else, maybe even himself, and he let it go this far. He knows Adrien can’t fight against Gabriel.

Ladybug nods after a few seconds, and he grabs at Adrien to steady him. The other boy flashes a grateful smile. He says something, and it takes a moment too long to really decipher it through the distorted syllables. “Did my brother send you?”

“Yes… He’s safe,” he says softly back.

Adrien startles. Then, a dopey smile floats across his face, not quite connected with the rest of his expression. “Smile, Paon. The world’s not ending.”

“You remind me of a certain cat.” For a second, he lets his eyes drop to the pocket of the sweatshirt. It bulges just a little, revealing where the kwami hides. Plagg wouldn’t be able to stray too far from Adrien right now; whether or not Duusu likes the other kwami, he respects the way he treats his Chosen. 

Ladybug centers herself before whispering,  _ “Lucky Charm!” _

A tray of food and a soda falls into her open arms. She gawks at the meal, stunned by the choice. As she turns around, displaying it, he notes the simplicity. A bowl of yogurt and granola, an open can of Mountain Dew… It, fundamentally, will be easy to go down infused with an excessive amount of sugar. For someone who hasn’t gotten the chance to eat a lot, they wouldn’t puke it up. It might be just enough to get them moving again…

It dawns on him then. 

While she holds no chance of figuring it out, he knows this means the akuma needs all three of them to finish it off. They already stand at a loss for what the akuma might be. He followed his hunch of it being the camera, but when Ladybug shattered it, no akuma drifted out. Nothing else stands out on his body. Maybe Chat Noir will know better than the two of them. 

“I can’t imagine the akuma wants to eat,” Ladybug murmurs. Then, she tilts her head in a strangely familiar way. “Maybe it’s for you.”

“How’s that gonna stop the akuma?” Adrien asks. 

Le Paon nudges Adrien over to the toilet and lets him sit top of the lid. Then, he sets down the tray and forces the spoon into his hand. “We’re superheroes, remember? We help everyone out.”

“It always helps in the long run. Besides, you look like you need it.” Ladybug joins his side again, and Le Paon droops back to the door. Between the two of them, Ladybug knows how to comfort people. Just judging by the way Adrien starts eating, slowly, when she prods it proves his point. 

Adrien ducks his head. “I’m sorry.”

“What for? Akumas don’t make the rest of life stop. If you’re having a bad day, it doesn’t stop with an akuma… If anything, it makes it worse. And it’s okay to need help. And it’s okay to take care of yourself.” As she reaches out, she pauses for a moment, fingers trembling. Then, she strokes his hair once to comfort him, and Adrien leans into her touch. 

He swallows hard, cheeks going red again. “Still.”

“Still  _ nothing.  _ You deserve happiness, and you deserve safety.” Her voice takes a harder note, something a little too knowing. Le Paon stares at her. Does she know about Gabriel? While it might not be the best-kept secret, he knows…

His vision starts clouding over, thick streams of blue contorting. Struggling not to flinch, he reaches for Duusu’s presence in the back of his mind. Something warm and comforting presses back into the inquiry, reassuring him this is normal. Blue drifts over every surface of the lights, and it bounces across Adrien’s skin, making his blond hair resemble the endless morning sky instead. 

Ladybug stands out in bright red and black still, her new costume popping even more in the sea of blue. As she reaches out, blue flickers over her form once, twice. Then, it disappears, sweeping the red away…

Until Marinette stands in Ladybug’s place.

As he blinks, eyes growing wide, the blue fades away, and Ladybug reappears.

_ “Peacocks always know the truth,”  _ Duusu whispers.

-

“Are you sure you’ve got this?” Plagg murmurs a few seconds after Ladybug and Le Paon disappeared. They still needed to deal with the akuma, and he started to make some noise outside the door. Since they didn’t think Adrien would be able to fight against it, or  _ move  _ very fast, they set out to fight. 

Adrien steadies himself and ignores the throbbing in his temples. When the world stops tilting, he flashes a bright smile. “They need me, right? ‘Sides, I have an idea.”

“Thinking’s dangerous for you, kiddo.” Floating up and down his body, he does a quick inspection. He prods at Adrien’s ankle, and he grits his teeth to make sure he doesn’t yelp. Finally, Plagg gives up with a shrug. “I’ll help you out this time around, but you’re going to crash hard. You’re sitting out the next akuma if it happens soon… And it will because Hawkmoth is a psychopath.”

“Tell me something I don’t know.” Taking a deep breath, he tries to push away any lingering feelings of sickness. It clings to him, sinking beneath his bones. 

Right as he opens his mouth, ready to activate the transformation, Plagg calls out. “Don’t use Cataclysm _.” _

“What?” He hesitates and stumbles. The plan he threw together  _ depends  _ on using Cataclysm. 

Plagg winces. “We both know Cataclysm works against you right now. And… And I can’t fix that one, kiddo. Only time can. I don’t think it’ll help with how fragile you are.”

“I’m not fragile—” He stumbles over the words upon seeing the kwami’s dark look. Then, he nods. “Okay, no Cataclysm. I’ll find a way to do something else, promise, Plagg. Now…  _ Claws out.” _

Transforming usually leaves him with a sick sensation in his stomach, but the freedom wipes it away. This time, a warm blanket sweeps over his form, coddling him. The pain from his ankle, while still there, ebbs away. His headache clears away, no longer clinging to him. Something manic starts to eat at him, similar to the last time where his ankle felt weightless after breaking. Plagg compares it to being high—no human should be healed quite that quickly from a Miraculous, but they break rules.

He glances at the mirror, and he grins at himself. The fragility, the uselessness, belongs to Adrien; Chat Noir could accomplish anything. Right now, he is about to set out and prove it to everyone. 

Nudging the door open, he takes off down the hallways, searching for the telltale sign of a camera. Almost poetically, he notes, they wound up in the room where Adrien was posing against the Eiffel Tower. As he slinks closer to the floor, careful not to be seen, he glances up to search for the overhead lights. Since all of them hang, it’ll be easier enough to bounce from one to another.

Le Paon and Ladybug both fight with Picture Perfect, but it’s obvious who has an upper hand. Every time one of them gets close enough to try and strike, they have to dodge away from a camera flash. 

Extending the baton, he launches up to the overhead lights before calling out. “Trust me?” 

“Yes!” Ladybug calls back without hesitation, and Le Paon simply gapes at him. 

Chat grins. “Good! Say hello to our old friend!”

And then, he plunges one of the lights into darkness, punching straight through the bulb. His knuckles sting from the impact, and glass falls to the ground. As he leaps to the next one, Le Paon makes a noise and launches himself at Picture Perfect to keep him from shooting Chat down. “I guess we’re acting as diversions for you today.” 

“It’s a day of firsts,” he singsongs, repeating the process on the next light. 

Beaming up at him, Ladybug shoots him twin thumbs up. Then, she whips her yo-yo out and catches Picture Perfect’s wrist, forcing the akuma to stumble towards her. 

Le Paon takes advantage.  _ “Pathfinder!” _

The green light flutters out and twirls around the akuma. Then, it settles on one of the reflective plates on his hand. With the light settled right there, he can make out the corners and holes of the surface… It’s a  _ glove.  _ And Lord knows the photographer loves his gloves; even when he shows up in a different uniform, he keeps his gloves on. 

Chat breaks the last light, and now, only the dim glow of Pathfinder guides them. He hoots and leaps back to the ground. “It’s a game of chance now, buddy! Take your  _ shot.”  _

Sure enough, his glove shifts, still illuminated, trying to capture Chat. With the advantage of seeing which way he turns, though, he charges away with plenty of time to make sure he doesn’t get captured in the bright white flash. For all of those times Vincent lectured him about taking advantage of the lighting, Chat understands better than he pretends. 

In the back of his mind, something starts purring and buzzing.  _ “Good job, kid.” _

“Kitten, remember?” he murmurs, and the purring stops. “You used the nickname; this is on you.”

_ “I take it back. I hate you.” _

Ladybug makes the first move. A thin string appears, cutting the green light and leaving strange shadows. As she jerks it forward, Chat lunges forward and slides into the light. Using the slick floors to his advantage, he wraps his hands around the glove and yanks it off. Tossing it into the air, he waits for Le Paon to finish the trio.

And sure enough, a dart slices through the glove, and a butterfly flutters out, radiating a cloud of purple about it. 

“No more evil-doing for you, little akuma! Time to de-evilize!” He finds the silhouette of Ladybug sliding into view, the green light of Pathfinder dancing about her, still reaching for the glove. As she tosses out her yo-yo with practice ease, she captures the akuma in one fluid movement. “Bye-bye, little butterfly. Miraculous Ladybug!” 

All around them, the world starts returning to normal. Chat turns around to watch the glass reach upwards, stretching until it goes back to the surface of the light. Soon enough, the fluorescent lights cover them, and Pathfinder disappears entirely. Picture Perfect returns to Vincent. People start unfreezing from the various poses around (though Chat can’t see Felix right now. It might be hypocritical; he knows he won’t be finding Adrien in this crowd). 

Ladybug grins at them. “That might’ve been our best run as a team yet.”

“The Miraculous Team!” Chat bounds forward, and he ignores the way his ankle threatens to give out. The magic must be ready to give out, and Plagg starts urging him to go and detransform. 

Le Paon rolls his eyes. “That name never stops being asinine.”

“And you never stop being an ass.” He winks before nudging Le Paon. “Pound it?”

“Pound it,” recite Ladybug and Le Paon dutifully.

_ Click. _

He spins in time to see Vincent, still somewhat stunned, capturing their photo. He winks and poses as goofily as possible, and the man gapes. “But… Your essence! Sad! Lonely! Waiting!”

“I think you have the wrong kitty,” Ladybug says affectionately, reaching up to swipe a hand through his hair. He purrs without meaning, and he goes bright red. She stares at him before breaking out laughing. “Come back! We’re trying that again!”

“Oh, wow, I have to go!” he cackles as he starts racing away from Ladybug, and she chases him down. 

-

“The photo shoot is over.” 

Adrien startles from where he started to pose, and Vincent seems ready to throw one of his precious cameras at the wall. He turns to face Nathalie. “Mademoiselle Sancoeur, surely Monsieur Agreste would rather we finish now instead of later. As well for SOFT’s company. The sooner we can produce—”

“We have properly compensated SOFT, and they agreed to use all of the footage of him as Chat Noir. Someone else can act as Le Paon. With the money provided, they could probably cast a rather famous model of equal caliber to Adrien.” Nathalie pauses, and, for a second, a smirk forms on her lips. It disappears just as fast, leaving Vincent reeling. “Unless, of course, you would prefer to throw a hissy fit and become akumatized once again. In which case, your lack of professionalism will lead you to get blacklisted from the Agreste Company. You could go to Monsieur Agreste about this matter, but you may find he trusts my judgment more than yours.”

“Mademoiselle Sancoeur—” Vincent gapes at her for a long second, and Adrien snorts into the cuff of the sweatshirt. He turns and starts his passionate plea. “Monsieur Agreste,  _ young  _ Monsieur Agreste, you appreciate the arts! Wouldn’t you prefer to see it to full completion? Nobody likes a half-finished masterpiece.”

“I—”

“You are speaking with  _ me,  _ Monsieur.” Nathalie steps forward, her heels clicking sharply against the floor. “I am the acting handler of  _ this  _ Monsieur Agreste at this moment, and I have concluded this photo shoot. Any act against me will be noted and delivered to his father. Now, I suggest you let us leave. Adrien, come on.”

“Of course, Nathalie.” He gets to his feet, wincing as he places a little too much weight on his bad ankle. Her eyes flicker down for a second, and he tries to play it off. “Do I need to return the boots and the sweatshirt on the way out?”

“No. SOFT agrees you wearing it acts as positive product placement.” She flicks her hand over her shoulder. 

Felix joins at his side, and subtly, he allows him to shift more of his weight. As the two of them start to walk away, Vincent makes soft, keening noises in the back of his throat. Nathalie sneers down at him for a long moment before turning on her heel, starting to stomp out of the studio. 

“Nathalie’s a badass,” he murmurs to him.

Cocking his head, he analyzes Nathalie for a long moment. Then, Felix lets out a low whistle and nods. “Who would’ve thought? When she’s not acting as a lapdog to Gabriel, she’s actually pretty impressive.”

“Lapdog to your father?” Nathalie barks out a laugh and continues to usher the two of them out. When they start walking down the steps, he missteps and almost trips over himself. Felix wraps an arm around his waist, careful to make sure he doesn’t crack his head open on the steps. 

At the bottom, the limo sits patiently. Adrien blinks. “How did you get the Gorilla here so soon?”

“How that man humors such a nickname is beyond me. I wouldn’t want to be called an animal.” She winks, and Felix stiffens. She might just be a woman of many surprises. “And besides, the second that fight began, I knew we wouldn’t be able to stay for long. I contacted him, and we’re leaving.”

“I’m impressed, Nathalie,” Felix says after a long second. 

“Pretty good for a lapdog.” She smugly smiles before claiming the passenger seat. As she clips in the seatbelt, she leans over. “Simon, can you do me a favor and drive to McDonald’s? Leave this between the two of us, of course.”

He lets an affirmative grunt.

Adrien freezes. “McDonald’s? I don’t think we’ve had that in  _ years.  _ I mean, sometimes, we get it on our birthdays, but—”

“Consider this to be a belated birthday present then.” With that, Nathalie starts typing away at her tablet. Then, she pauses and turns to face the two of them. “I presume I don’t need to tell the two of you to keep this from your father?”

“Of course, Nathalie,” they chorus. She nods, satisfied.

He leans into Felix, trying to contain his excitement. “Why do you think we’re getting McDonald’s—”

“Because you don’t eat enough. And you don’t sleep enough.” Felix yanks out his phone and scoots to a seat, just far enough from Adrien. As he starts tapping away, Adrien reels back as if slapped. Then, his brother grits his teeth and slides back, practically pressing him into the window seat. “I’m bad at this. I suck at this. Look, I’m usually pretty good at whatever I set out to do, but I don’t really know how best to be your brother, and every time I get mad, I want to go scream out a window and not deal with you because I don’t want to fail. And that’s, evidently, counterintuitive.”

“Felix…” He scoots even closer and wraps an arm around his brother’s shoulder. “You’re the best brother I could ever ask for.”

“That’s a lie. I couldn’t… I was  _ terrified  _ today. I even went to Nathalie, and you know I hate going to anyone who works under Gabriel.” Felix sighs, taking in a shaky breath. His hands tremble in his lap, and he curls them into fists. “Your texts? They startled me. And I don’t like feeling like that.”

“I’m sorry—”

“Don’t be. I know you’re not intentionally doing it, but you don’t stick up for yourself. And if you won’t, then someone has to. Your diet isn’t  _ working.  _ I don’t know if the cooks have just suddenly cut back or if you’re suddenly doing more than usual, but either way, you don’t eat enough. We have to find a way to fix that.” He sighs. “I don’t know the best way to solve the sleep thing. I think that one is solely in Gabriel’s hands.” 

“Felix…” He doesn’t know what to say. He flounders for a long second before maneuvering around the seatbelt, pulling his brother as close as the car will allow them. “I’ll be careful,  _ I promise.  _ I’ll eat more. I’ll…”

“You better.”

Felix hugs him back, and Adrien melts into the embrace. His brother always makes him feel  _ safe;  _ he always has his back. Even as they grow older, they remain entwined. Sure, they might have a few secrets  _ (or just one really big secret, but if Adrien could tell Felix he was Chat Noir, he would do so without a second thought),  _ but they still fit each other. They were still two halves of the same whole. 

His brother’s voice escapes, almost too soft to make out. “You’re all I have left.”

“You have more than just me.” Adrien shifts back, a soft smile starting to play at his lips. “You have me, sure. You will  _ always  _ have me. But you have a lot more now… You have Nathaniel, who you seem  _ very  _ close with, and Nino, who you bonded with no matter what you say. And you’ll just keep growing outwards!”

“I don’t need anyone else. I’ve only ever needed you.” Felix sighs.

He butts their shoulders together. “I’ll never stop needing you, but we’re growing up—”

“And yet, you both act like children,” Nathalie says, breaking the moment, and Adrien can’t stop his laugh. 

-

_ “I can’t heal all of your injuries, all the time. There is a limit to my power,” Plagg moans, a paw wrapped around his stomach. While his newest Wielder never failed to provide Camembert, she kept pushing the limits. She wanted to be an active part of combatting this ancient evil; she wanted to make risky plays where the whole plan might fall to pieces. _

_ The worst part of the whole situation was the way she refused to listen to the newest Ladybug. To be fair, he considered him to be an idiot as well. Why Fu selected this specific pairing went over his head, but Fu always insisted he  _ had  _ his reasons. But if a Ladybug didn’t plan and a Black Cat didn’t follow along, it meant they would face trouble further along the road.  _

_ She sighed and twisted on her bed, wincing with every breath. “I thought you were a god.” _

_ “Of  _ destruction.”  _ He rolled his eyes. All of the kwamis kept certain powers, and they could step out of their realms if they really tried. Healing still belonged to Tikki, though, and she could practically bring her Wielders back from the brink of death. He did scrapes and cuts, but it usually ended up worse than it started. Ignoring an injury until it goes away could hardly be considered sound medical advice.  _

_ With one last motion, she finished binding her bandages, tight around her broken ribs. He wonders how it’ll playout for the next movie. She insists she never minds the more… Intimate scenes, but just hearing about that leaves him reeling. She insists she wants to do it for the art, but every once and a while, her discomfort shines through.  _

_ Then, she took a deep breath. “What if we compromised? You healed me up, and I’ll go on twice the amount of patrols.” _

_ “Why does that sound like more work for me?” he snorted. “No deal, kid.” _

_ “I don’t get it. If I had your power and your ability, I’d end… I don’t know, all war. If I could. I’d certainly try.” She sighed. _

_ Plagg gave her a long look before floating over to her vanity, sniffing for a crumb of cheese bread. “What part of ‘god of destruction’ do you not get? If you got Tikki, you probably would be able to fix things.” _

_ “Well, you could use Cataclysm in positive ways.” _

_ “Like what?” _

_ It caught her for a loop, and she leant back, debating what to say. Ultimately, she offered a lazy half-shrug. “Take a dictator, and Cataclysm them? Didn’t you Cataclysm the dinosaurs out of existence? Couldn’t we Cataclysm… I don’t know. I’ve said that too many times in a row. We could figure something out. Wait. You’re the one who  _ has  _ the power! You probably have thought about the best way to help everyone.” _

_ “The best way to help everyone,” Plagg drawled out, seeing the way she perked up, “is by keeping our noses out of everyone else’s business. If you wait long enough, maybe another god will fall in your lap… I know for a fact Duusu and Trixx don’t have to deal with this from their Wielders.” _

_ “Well, Duusu and Trixx have better attitudes.” She pouted. “Why don’t you want to help people?” _

_ “I told you. I am. The sooner you learn that, kid, the better.” _

**Author's Note:**

> Preview:
> 
> TOM: I’m so sorry! The bakery got backed up, but I PROMISE we will be running towards the airport as soon as possible! Sabine is confident that in about half an hour she will be able to handle the demand!


End file.
